So today (well, yesterday–the 20th, actually) my baby (kitty) would've been eleven–if she hadn't died last year. Somehow it makes me feel a little better to think about that she lived part of her eleventh year; she wasn't only ten–she was ten and a few months. I don't know why that makes me feel any better.

I miss her so much and all of me wants to protest that it's been almost a year since I lost her. There's somehow comfort in knowing that I'm only months away from her and not…a year…or years. I'm trying to remember that while each day is farther away from her, each day is also closer to her–to the day I'll see her again in heaven.

It's a bittersweet day. Eleven years ago four kittens were born on our back porch; I was only twelve. One of those kittens became mine, one became my mom's, and the other two came to belong to two of my sisters respectively. Last year, one of them died a little less than a month before her birthday. Then my baby died in May. In October, my mom's kitty died. So today I celebrate the lives of these four wonderful kittens, but only one of them is here. He's a sweet boy, though. He was very excited about the present I gave him–a pink octupus-like catnip toy attached to a string and a stick. His favorite color is pink. Say what you will, but he has definitely shown a preference for that color. He also loved the "cake" we gave him–cream corn. His mother and the other cats loved it, too.

I'm so happy that this sweet boy is still with us and that his mom is still with us–she is the most amazing sweetheart on the planet!–but still…I miss the others so much. At the store, when I was getting some of Kurt's favorite foods, I couldn't help but think about that if my baby were here I would buy applesauce and bartlett pears for her–she loved them! Anyway, enough lamenting for now….


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